


Breaking Barriers

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-25
Updated: 2006-02-25
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8079943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Reed considers loneliness, friendship, and heartache. Spoilers, 2.01 "Shockwave 2" and 2.03 "Minefield." (07/01/2002)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Many thanks to Leah for another outstanding performance as Beta Queen!  


* * *

Alone at the small table in a corner of the mess hall sat Lieutenant Malcolm Reed. He finished his dinner, pushing aside his half-eaten meal, then stared out the window at the passing stars while contemplating his life aboard Enterprise. Reed spent the better part of his dinnertime reflecting on surprising friendships, feelings of loneliness, and the sorrowful heartache of an unrequited love.

Determined to keep such thoughts well suppressed, Reed relied upon his strong military discipline and dedication to duty to carry him through each day. With a slight smile, he recalled his boarding school dean, standing at the lectern, fist pounding emphatically: "Always keep in mind the words of Thomas Carlyle, 'Blessed is he who has found his work; let him ask no other blessedness'."

Heeding these words of wisdom, Reed swiveled in his seat to face the table, refocusing his energy on the padds and schematics spread out before him. Calculations and math problems, daily reports and duty rosters filled his mind and occupied his fingers as they flew across various padds. The schematics for a force field generator promised to be another engrossing project. Work welcomed him. Work soothed him. Sometimes work consumed him. Tonight work sustained him.

* * *

Sub-commander T'Pol entered the mess hall and made her way to the captain's dining room. Seeing Reed sitting in the corner, she gave him a slight nod as he raised his eyes in silent acknowledgement. She pressed the buzzer and entered the private room.

"Evenin', T'Pol," greeted Commander Trip Tucker. He and Captain Jonathan Archer were already assembled, waiting for T'Pol to join them for dinner.

"Captain, Commander." She nodded with respectful politeness.

The three senior officers took their seats, ordered their meals, and sat back to chat as they awaited their food.

"Did you see Malcolm all alone in the corner?" asked Tucker. He shook his head and grunted. "I wonder what's up with him. All he ever does any more is bury himself in work."

"You noticed that, too," said Archer. "I thought at first I had said or done something to offend him, but then Hoshi and Travis commented to me in private that he seems 'changed', and they're concerned about him."

"All's I know," replied Tucker, "is that we just started getting close as friends. About three times a week we'd work out together in the gym." He grinned. "With regular workouts like the ones he put together, I figured I'd be as muscular as Travis before long. He was really opening up, sharin' some things about himself. He seemed to feel comfortable and at home here."

Taking a drink of his iced tea, Tucker continued. "Then about two months ago Malcolm went all cold and distant on me. Now he tells me that he's 'too busy' to spend time with me. Of course, he's polite and professional at all times, so it's hard to tell if I hurt his feelin's somehow or if he just doesn't like the smell of my soap."

T'Pol poured herself a glass of water from the nearby pitcher. "Lieutenant Reed is dedicated to his duty. He has assumed, of his own volition, self-defense and weapons training for all members of the crew in order to improve their individual capabilities." She took a long sip of water and hesitated as the steward arrived and served the meals.

With great care, T'Pol sawed through a breadstick and, using the fork to lift the piece of food to her mouth, chewed it in a quiet and delicate manner. Another sip of water and she continued. "I find it admirable that Mr. Reed is so concerned for the safety and well-being of this crew, to the extent that he devotes much of his free time to devising and conducting these extensive training regimens."

Archer and Tucker exchanged glances. A few minutes passed as the officers ate in silence. With a sigh, Archer put down his fork and gulped some of his iced tea. "I appreciate Malcolm's dedication to duty and sense of responsibility. Sometimes I wish more of the crew shared his strong work ethic. But I'm worried about him."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow and continued eating her vegetables.

Smirking, Tucker said, "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." He pulled a wry smile. "It's that damn British reserve and 'stiff upper lip' of his. That boy's put all sorts of barriers up so nobody can get close to him."

With a sad shake of his head, Archer said, "But that's just it. You said it yourself, and the rest of us noticed it, too. Malcolm _was_ unwinding, making friends, and becoming a part of the crew." A soft chuckle escaped him. "He sure livened up our book discussion group."

"Book group?" asked Tucker.

Archer smiled. "Yes, there were eight of us: me, T'Pol, Malcolm, Hoshi, Phlox, Liz Cutler, Mike Rostov, and Chef."

"Aw, Cap'n, nobody told me there was a book group. You should have asked me to join. Ya know I like to read." Tucker sounded miffed that he had been excluded.

After swallowing a bite of steamed carrots, T'Pol said, "Commander, the book group discusses many important and intellectual literary works from our respective cultures." She sipped more water. "You have a reputation for preferring a specific genre known as 'comic books', which we deemed as inappropriate for the group."

"Hey!" Tucker protested. "I'll have you know that comic books are great readin' with real excitin' plots, unique characters, and snappy dialogue. They're lots of fun to read. And best of all, it don't take a whole week to read one of 'em!" He emphasized his point by jabbing his fork into a large chunk of steak and popping it into his mouth.

Archer said, "Trip, believe me, you wouldn't want to be reading classical Earth literature, let alone translated works from Vulcan and Denobula! That's why I never mentioned the book group to you."

"Indeed, Commander," added T'Pol. "We recently discussed the philosophical teachings of Surak." She paused a moment. "Mr. Reed contributed interesting and logical insights into Vulcan ideology."

Tucker sighed and shook his head. "No wonder Malcolm's not right in the head these days, if he's readin' stuff like that. Probably turned his mind to mush."

"T'Pol, do you remember Phlox's book choice, the 'Dilettante Denobulan'?" Archer gave a hearty laugh. "Malcolm sure yanked Phlox's chain about it. How'd he put it?"

T'Pol thought for a moment. "As I recall, Mr. Reed said the book was 'a poor plebian effort to inadequately and insufficiently describe a sorry series of shameful 'sexcapades' in the life of a delusional Denobulan'."

"Yeah," laughed Archer. "Malcolm added that 'as an important and intellectual literary work it fell far short of the mark—but otherwise it was a damn fine example of pure erotica'!"

Tucker jerked his head up. "You mean you also read dirty books?" he asked with great interest.

"No, not always," replied Archer. "Let's see, Chef's book choice was 'Classics of Cultural Cooking and the Impact of Resequencers.' He smirked. "Come to think of it, Malcolm and Rostov ganged up on Chef, making cryptic comments about Chef not following the advice in the book." Archer chuckled, "Chef was so mad he threatened to serve only resequenced meatloaf every night for a month. They had to do some major backpedaling to soothe Chef's ire." Archer took a bite of mashed potatoes, washing it down with a sip of iced tea.

T'Pol said placidly, "Ensign Sato's book choice was 'Anthropological Discoveries of Early Earth Languages'. I found it quite an intelligent literary treatise. Mr. Reed, however, described it as 'a truly fascinating yawn, which could also serve as an alternative medicine in the treatment of severe insomnia'. I believe he and Dr. Phlox were in accord on that point."

Tucker laughed hard. "Sounds like Malcolm's quirky sense of humor all right." He looked at both officers. "So, what happened?"

With a sad look on his face, Archer said, "About two months ago, Malcolm came to me and said he couldn't participate in book group. Said he's 'too busy' with the new training programs and maintaining his normal workload." Archer looked away for a moment and exhaled. "I offered to re-assign some of his duties. Malcolm, stoic and reserved as ever, politely declined, telling me: 'With all due respect, sir, I am quite capable of fulfilling all of my duties.'"

Archer looked away for a few minutes, gazing at the stars streaming past the viewport. With a wistful sigh he turned back to his dinner companions. "I miss Malcolm's presence in book group. I got to see a different side of him: warmer, friendlier, more relaxed, and comfortable. Now it's not the same without his insight and sense of humor."

T'Pol finished her meal and drank the last of her water. "Were you aware, Captain, that Lieutenant Reed is reading this month's book selection?" At Archer's questioning look she continued, "Earlier today he was eating lunch with Doctor Phlox and Ensign Cutler. As I passed their table I overheard them discussing Shakespeare's Sonnets, which you selected for discussion. Perhaps he will find time to attend the next group meeting." She folded her napkin and set it on the table as she rose. "If you will excuse me...." Both men rose, Tucker pulling T'Pol's seat out for her, and wished her a good night.

After T'Pol left the room, Archer and Tucker sat back down and waited for dessert and coffee to be served. "It hurts, doesn't it?" asked Tucker, not meeting Archer's eyes.

"What?"

"Whatever it is that's botherin' you. My guess is that it has somethin' to do with Malcolm."

Archer cocked his head, studying Tucker's face. He read friendship and compassion in the younger man's blue eyes and nodded. "Is it that obvious?"

"Cap'n, we've been friends for a long time. I think I know you pretty well by now. I noticed you haven't been yourself these past couple of months. In fact, you've been mopin' since the time Malcolm started puttin' up barriers again to separate himself from everyone else." Tucker gave his friend's arm a gentle pat. "You know anythin' ya tell me will stay just between us."

Archer hesitated, "All right." Grimacing slightly, he shook his head. "Malcolm. Damn, he's attractive. Yeah, I'm definitely interested in him." He sipped his coffee. "I had hoped that with the book group he and I would spend more time together, and then things would develop...Well, it looks like he's not interested in me."

"Don't know why it would," said Tucker. "He sure gets upset whenever you're in danger or goin' on a mission without security. And I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watchin' him."

"Really?" Archer's green eyes lit up with hope and glanced over at Tucker.

Tucker smiled, contemplating his cup of coffee. "Ya know, when you were missin' sometime in the future—Malcolm was well aware of the risk in gettin' that device out of Daniels' cabin. I think he had a good idea of what exactly the Suliban would do to him. But he did it anyway to get you back here, knowin' it could be the last thing he ever did."

Archer thought about Tucker's words as he ate the final morsel of his chocolate cake. "I wonder if Malcolm's been hurt recently, and closing himself off to everyone is his way of coping." Sighing, he said, "I sure wish there was a way I could break down Malcolm's barriers."

The two men finished their coffee, dropped their napkins on the table, and exited the dining room. A few steps into the mess hall and Tucker reached his hand over to grab Archer's shoulder. Leaning in close, he whispered, "Uh, what was the title of that Denobulan book?"

Archer smiled back at Trip, laughing, "The Dilettante Denobulan, and you can borrow my copy." Turning his face, he looked across the room, directly into Reed's eyes. "Go on ahead, Trip, I'm going to have a word with Malcolm."

* * *

After nodding a greeting to T'Pol as she entered the mess hall on her way to dinner in the captain's dining room, Reed set his padds aside. Rubbing his fingertips across tired eyes, he turned back in his seat to watch the stars once again.

Watching T'Pol approach the door had stirred pangs of jealousy within Reed's heart, and he wished it were he instead of T'Pol entering the captain's private domain. Closing his eyes, he let his mind wander back to that day two months previously. The day his hopes of a romantic relationship with Archer were irrevocably dashed.

\\\ Reed strode down the corridor, muttering under his breath, and smacked the call button for the turbolift. Still seething, he entered and punched the button for Deck D, formulating the argument he would soon have with Commander Tucker. He had just discovered that Tucker ordered the removal of the Armory's supply of grenades and ammunition, which, because of space limitations, had been carefully stored in one of Engineering's Jeffries tubes.

Now the crates were scattered all around the torpedo room, leaving little space to maneuver in that already too small area. When the lift door opened, Reed barreled into Engineering, fire in his eyes. Rounding a corner, he braked to a complete halt at the sound of someone using his name. He stood there listening, surprised and hurt at what he overheard.

The first speaker, a deep-voiced male crewman said, "Yeah, I heard several of the crew voted to have one of the biobeds put on permanent reserve for Lieutenant 'Malady Malcolm' Reed."

Two male voices laughed.

The tenor-voiced crewman added, "That's right, our very own 'Danger Ranger' armory officer does have a bad habit of getting injured or needing to be rescued."

Deep-voice snickered. "Everyone knows he only does it so he can get the Captain's attention. I mean, why else would he get himself in situations where it's the Captain who always has to go rescue him?"

"Ain't that the truth. Too bad for him that it's all for nothin'! Everyone except 'Malady Malcolm' knows about the Captain and Commander Tucker."

"No kiddin'," said deep-voice. "Archer wouldn't look twice at the likes of Reed—not when he's got Tucker warming his bed every night."

Both crewmen giggled in glee.

"Yeah, after all, those two have known each other for a long time, and they do _everything_ together." Deep-voice cursed fluently. "Goddamn wrench! It's still too small! I can't get this damn bolt to budge! Pass me that little red one."

Tenor-voice harrumphed, "Serves you right for just tossing them in the toolbox without checking the sizes." He chuckled, "As for Archer and Tucker, those two are joined at the hip. If Reed wants to keep his career, he better back off the Captain or he'll find out the hard way that Hell hath no fury like a jealous engineer!"

Again the two crewmen shared a long laugh.

Taking a deep breath, Reed resumed his mission to argue his case for storing his munitions. Approaching the two crewmen, he gave a curt nod and demanded, "Where can I find Commander Tucker?"

"Uh, Sorry, Sir," stammered deep-voice. "I believe the Commander is working on power transfer conduits on C Deck, Sir." He stood ramrod straight, obviously not sure how much of the conversation the armory officer had heard.

Tenor-voice also stood at attention and watched Reed with apparent fear.

"As you were," Reed said, coolly nodding again at both crewmen. He eyed the stubborn bolt and the jumbled wrenches in the toolbox, making a quick assessment. "You might try using the long-handled black wrench; it looks to be the right size." He turned on his heel and strode out of the area, struggling to contain the hurt welling up inside him.

Approaching the turbolift, Reed considered the conversation he overheard. It was gossip, pure and simple. But was it true? Was his friend, Tucker, in a relationship with their captain? It made sense: Archer and Tucker almost always ate their meals together, they shared all the same interests, and they spent all their off-duty time together. Reed, mentally discarding the facts that Tucker was not part of the book group, and that he also spent a great deal of time in the gym with Reed, wondered how he could have been so blind as to not see for himself the true relationship between Archer and Tucker.

Reed exited the lift on C Deck and stopped in the corridor. He was interested in Archer and desired him as he had never desired anyone else before; maybe he even loved him. He enjoyed Archer's company, his humor, the lilt of his voice, those green eyes, muscular chest, long fingers...

With a jolt, Reed snapped out of his reverie. The Captain couldn't be interested in him. Archer already had someone, and even if he didn't, he still wouldn't like Reed. The numerous arguments Reed fought with the Captain about security measures, setting up protocols, establishing procedures always ended with Archer pulling rank. Reed recalled that no matter how hard he argued or how angry he became, Archer always negated every suggestion, every protest, and every argument he presented. In Reed's mind this was proof positive of the Captain's low regard for him. Reed knew in his heart that despite their few common interests, Archer, the space-tourist explorer, could never be interested in him, the paranoid, stoic tactician.

Thinking back to the crewmen's gossip, Reed thought about his propensity for getting injured or stranded and having to depend on his captain to rescue him. He couldn't be much of an officer, much of a man for that matter, if he was always getting into trouble or hurt.

Continuing through the corridor, Reed gave considerable thought to Tucker. They were good friends now, working out in the gym together several times each week, talking over an odd meal here and there, sharing a few wild escapades and exaggerating experiences. Tucker reminded Reed of his best friend back at Starfleet, Mark Latrelle: they both had the same boyish charm and easy-going, laid-back nature that belied a sharp mind. Reed realized that he could never jeopardize his friendship with Tucker by pursuing a romantic liaison with the Captain. It would be so wrong to attempt to break up that long-term relationship. He decided his friend's happiness with Archer was more important than his own feelings.

Reed also thought about how jealous he would be if he remained in close contact with either or both men. The pain he would suffer each time Tucker mentioned Archer would tear him apart. Workouts would be unbearable watching Tucker sweat, knowing that afterwards Tucker would go to Archer's cabin for a shower and...

His heart aching, Reed staunchly resolved to stay away from both of them. Everyone, for that matter, outside of duty. Formulating a plan, Reed decided that first he would drop out of the book group despite the enjoyment he derived from it. Second, he would avoid all one-on-one personal situations with the Captain and Tucker. Third, he would spend as little personal time with any of the crew as possible. In short, he would build up new barriers and keep everyone at arm's length. It would be better that way. Things were so much easier when there was no possibility of anyone ever being hurt. With a deep sigh, Reed stepped into the turbolift to take him back to the Bridge. He would solve the munitions storage problem himself—alone. He was a professional, with no room for personal indulgences. \\\

Reed turned away from the window and began gathering up his padds and schematics. Glancing up, he saw Archer and Tucker leaving the private dining room. Tucker reached his hand to Archer's shoulder and leaned close to whisper in the captain's ear. Archer laughed and offered a reply. It was an intimate gesture, a tender moment between the two men, and Reed felt ashamed of the flash of jealousy that stabbed his heart. Unable to pull his eyes off Archer and Tucker, Reed stared a few more moments, then realized that Archer was looking at him.

Crossing the room, Archer advanced toward Reed. "Lieutenant," he motioned Reed to sit back down as Reed began to stand. "I'd like you to have breakfast with me tomorrow morning."

"Sir?" Reed glanced up in confusion, trying to calm the pounding of his heart.

"You heard me, 0730 in my dining room. I'll see you then."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good night, Lieutenant." Archer nodded once and left the mess hall, wondering if he should have asked Reed what he would like to eat for breakfast. Well, he thought, everyone likes eggs and Chef makes wonderful Eggs Benedict.

With a sigh, Reed picked up the remaining data padds and left the mess hall. Walking to the Armory, Reed brooded over why the Captain wanted to have breakfast with him. He stowed away his work and sat at his desk with the duty roster padd. Perhaps it's a working breakfast, he thought. An hour later Reed left the Armory, his duty roster prepared for the morning breakfast meeting. He hoped he would sleep well, but if the night was like most, his mind would drift into thoughts of Archer, filling him with despair and loneliness. Like most nights, there would be precious little rest.

Arising early, Reed showered, shaved, and dressed in a clean, pressed uniform for his breakfast with Archer. Dreading the encounter, he entered the mess hall, clutching the padd in one hand. He nodded briefly at a few acquaintances before turning towards the private dining room. A few mere paces and Reed stood mute in front of the door. Smoothing his hair and adjusting his uniform zipper, Reed hesitated, suddenly unsure of himself. Collecting his thoughts, he took a deep breath and pressed the buzzer. Discipline guided him. Discipline supported him. Sometimes discipline failed him. Today, discipline would protect him.


End file.
